


Acquainted with Your Cause of Grief

by Dassandre



Series: Every Hundredth of a Second [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/Dassandre
Summary: When the demons become too much.





	Acquainted with Your Cause of Grief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts).



> For Boffin: Thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> Sometimes we *must* write, and some things just *have* to be written.

“It will not let you eat nor talk nor sleep,

And could it work so much upon your shape

As it hath much prevailed on your condition,

I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,

Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.”

 

~ Portia, _The Tragedy of Julius Caesar_ by William Shakespeare

* * *

  


He watches him from the shadows, this man who has stolen ungently from his bed.  He has followed him across the river, across the city to stand -- solemn and contemplative -- at foot of the great bridge.

He comes here, _they_ come here, when the noise inside his head becomes too much, when his skin becomes too tight, when the screams of those he has killed become too loud.

It’s always there -- the noise -- but bound, contained, imprisoned behind a door fortified not with iron or steel or technology but with logic and conviction and pragmatism.

But even the strongest door can splinter, creating an imperceptible weakness just large enough for the wraiths of doubt and self-recrimination to slip through.

It starts, as it always does, with a run of late and sleepless nights compounded by a too heavy, neverending workload trying to keep one step ahead of those who would do The Commonwealth harm.  ‘Our enemies don’t sleep, so neither can I’ is his tacit argument. Fallacious.

The grains of wood begin to flex and bow.  He talks a little less and smokes a little more.

Fifteen minutes for a take-away cuppa, a couple of cigs, and a walk in the sunshine -- such as it is -- to get his head together becomes forty-five-minute kips on the sofa in his office when the caffeine, nicotine, and sugar that sustain him no longer can.  Inevitable.

One at a time, and then in bunches, the taut fibres snap.  Light-hearted snark turns to biting cynicism.

A mission goes pear-shaped:  civilians in jeopardy, critical intelligence in enemy hands with no hope of retrieval, agents at risk.  No solution on the ground in Dahkla ... until he creates one.

He never questions, never reconsiders.  

There is only action.  Agent clear, he blows the building  The intel is destroyed along with the enemy combatants who possess it.  Evac en route.

Collateral damage:  18 women, nine men, and six children.  The youngest, 6 months old.

The door splinters.

Too little sleep becomes no sleep.  One cig a day becomes a pack. He’s ousted from Six by Moneypenny and driven home by Alec.   He eats because it’s put in front of him. James returns two days after the building is blown behind him.

The sex is raw and brutal.  Cathartic.

It’s not enough.

Thinking James asleep, he slips from their bed an hour later.  James follows.

The silhouette of a leather-clad hand raises to his mouth and a moment later, caught in the feeble rays of the streetlamp, a thin plume of curling smoke and frosty breath spirals into the frigid air.  It is the only way in which he moves. He is otherwise still, free hand clutched on the metal rail, gaze fixed somewhere on the inky surface of the Thames.

Does he know he’s watched?  If so, he never speaks of it.  

If not …

He’ll be here the entire night: Castigation and punishment followed by introspection and meditation before, finally, conviction and faith return.

The wraiths will retreat.  The door will mend and be a bit stronger than before.

And through it all, he will watch.

James can’t slay the demons for him.  So he’ll watch from the shadows and protect his back while Q battles them himself.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts on this bit of characterization.


End file.
